The Perfect Plan
by drakie cakie
Summary: Scorpius has the perfect plan to get Albus to pinch him. However, it doesn't work so well. AS/S Albus Severus/Scorpius. Fluff. Brush teeth afterwards.


The Perfect Plan

Draconis VonTrapp

~*~*~*~*

St. Patrick's Day. Once it was something to be dreaded, but this year Scorpius Malfoy had a plan. A good plan, in fact. Well, it _had_ to be a good plan; he was a Malfoy, after all.

He knew the mechanics: Wear something green, don't get pinched. But Scorpius _wanted_ to get pinched. But not by anyone; just by Albus Potter. He'd been far too shy to approach Albus any other time (aside from the fact that they'd been study partners for five years now), and he was finally going to work up the courage to do something. Or, rather, have Albus do something; he was that kind of person. His plan was fool-proof.

Bravely, Scorpius strode down the hall towards the Great Hall, fearlessly not wearing one bit of green. He noticed that some weren't as (stupid) fearless as he, seeing girls with their green, frilly hair pieces, Slytherins exempt because of their House colors, and lots of boys with green ribbon tied to their wrist. He smirked amusedly as he saw James Potter; he was unpinchable due to the bright green patch in his otherwise ebony hair.

His smirk dissolved as a smaller Potter peeked just around James, mostly hidden by the older Potter. He immediately flushed, opening his mouth to call out to him when—

"Ow!" he exclaimed instead, rubbing the top of his thigh just under his butt where someone had pinched him. Grumbling, he glared at the pincher, who tossed a long, freckled arm around his shoulders.

"You weren't wearin' any green, mate. Civic duty, ya know," the Irish lilt rang out merrily. Scorpius sighed.

"Voltaire, you're not Irish," he pointed out, watching downhearted as Albus and James strode ahead into the Hall, off to sit with their Gryffindor friends.

"I know." His voice was back to normal. Voltaire was one of Scorpius's 'kind of' friends; he was mostly an enthusiastic acquaintance. Extra enthusiastic today, apparently. Scorpius envied him slightly; Voltaire was so carefree that he had no problem approaching (or making a move on) someone. "I do have red hair, though."

"Yeah, and more freckles than my Uncle Ron." He heard Voltaire huff. "Now go play with your snakes."

"Awww, you're no fun!" he complained. Once they were inside the Hall, Voltaire ruffled his hair (which he'd spent like, _twenty minutes_ on) and went off to the Slytherin table. Scorpius stood for a moment, watching Albus laugh with his friends, and sighed again. Then he was pinched again. "Damnit!" he cursed, rubbing his sore arm, now glowering at the group of girls giggling into their hands and retreating from the Malfoy Glare ™. He then sulkily shuffled off to the Ravenclaw table, hoping for a second chance later. Then he got pinched again. "Fuck!"

~*~*~*~*

Scorpius spied Albus across the classroom. Transfiguration was almost over. He could walk to him as they left, be like hey, Albus, how are you? Oh, it appears I'm not wearing any green! Curses! but just as the bell rang, Voltaire once again made an appearance.

"Wow! What a bitch, eh? 'No pinching in my classroom!' " he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. Scorpius tried to ignore him, arm reaching out to touch Albus's shoulder, but was thwarted. "Eh, Score?"

And then Albus walked away. And then Scorpius wanted to kill himself.

"Helloooo, anyone home?" There was the jarring sensation of knuckles rapping against his skull.

No, scratch that. Scorpius wanted to kill Voltaire.

"Yeah. Whatever," he grumbled, shrugging the redhead off. Before he could be questioned, he made sure to get lost in the sea of bodies, untraceable.

Ugh.

~*~*~*~*

This was it. Golden opportunity. Studying alone in the library, sitting next to each other. Scorpius could practically hear Albus's heartbeat it was so quiet. They were flipping through a Potion's text, taking notes and chatting, and somehow Albus had utterly failed to notice Scorpius's lack of green. Well, then he'd just have to mention it, wouldn't he? Malfoys never got anywhere without a little pushing.

"Hey, Al, did you—"

"Hey, guys!"

Scorpius resisted the temptation to bang his head on the table.

"Oh, hey, Voltaire," Albus greeted. The redhead took a seat across from them, he, too, taking a Potion's textbook out. "Ah, what were you saying, Scorpius? …Scorpius, are you—"

"It was nothing," he replied darkly, slamming his book shut and tucking it under his arm, standing abruptly. "It's just… it's nothing. Bye." And then he stomped off in that pissy way Malfoys do when they don't get what they want. But Scorpius didn't give a fuck if he was being melodramatic because idamnit/i he just wanted Albus to pinch him! Was that too much to ask?!

"What's wrong with him?" Voltaire mused bewilderedly. Albus sighed.

"I don't know. I'm gonna go after him." He abandoned his things on the table to go search out his study partner, worried the Malfoy would do something stupid. Or rash. Or both.

It took about fifteen minutes to find him. His head of bright blond hair shone in the sunlight like a halo as he lounged against a tree, a bottle of… something green. Or was the bottle green? He couldn't be sure. Maybe they were both green. Whatever it was, it was probably alcoholic. Only Scorpius wasn't alone. He appeared to be talking to… a grasshopper?

"Why is life so unfair, grasshopper?" he asked the bug that was perched on his folded leg. "Is my hair not shiny enough? Did I not show enough skin? Do I smell weird?" Of course the grasshopper didn't answer him, but it promptly hopped away as Albus approached.

"Heya, Score," he greeted tentatively. Scorpius looked up at him hopelessly and sighed, taking a swig of his green beverage. "Hey, gimme that!"

"Why should I?" he argued, holding it out of arm's reach as Albus reached for it.

"Because it's probably something you shouldn't be drinking."

"Oh, don't be such a daft Gryffindor. Who cares if I shouldn't be drinking it? I'm drowning my sorrows, now go away." He sniffed, hiding the bottle behind his back.

"Don't be so dramatic, Score. Now tell me what's wrong." Albus sat next to him and looked Scorpius in the eye, making the other avert his embarrassedly.

"…Am I ugly?" he asked quietly. Albus arched an ebony eyebrow at him.

"Ugly?"

"Do I smell funny? Am I too short? Is my hair too long? Am I too blond—"

"Score, what the hell are you babbling about?" What was with all these questions?

"I can't figure out a reason why you won't pinch me!" he finally pouted, banging his fists on the ground on 'pinch.'

This made Albus physically jerk back in surprise. Pinch? Why would he want… Beryl eyes scanned up and down Scorpius's lithe form. Well, he was sharply dressed and his hair was immaculate, but there was not a single glimpse of green.

"Is that all?" Albus asked softly. Scorpius pressed his lips together, head turned away before he nodded. "Like here?"

"Eee!" Scorpius squirmed as Albus pinched his side, which tickled.

"And here? Here? How about here?" he kept saying, pinching Scorpius all up and down his sides, making the blond writhe and squeal.

"Eeeeee! Stoppitstoppitstoppit!"

"Hey, you're the one who wanted this. Careful what you wish for!" Finally he just dug his fingers into Scorpius's sides and tickled him mercilessly until Scorpius actually cried from laughing so hard. When he stopped, Scorpius was on his back panting as if he'd run a ten-mile marathon, Albus positioned over him with his hands under his shirt, smiling like the happiest fool, eyes bright.

"Is that all?" Albus repeated, hands soothing Scorpius's abused sides. Grey eyes melted as he placed his pale hands on Albus's shoulders.

"Well, I can think of a few other things," he murmured with a smirk. Albus returned the twisted half-smile and wasted no time leaning down. Right before their lips were about to partake in the sweetest of dances…

"Hey, there you are— whoa! I guess you're feelin' better, eh?" Voltaire chuckled.

Scorpius threw the green bottle at him.


End file.
